Xenophobia
by ChronicallyinFlaming
Summary: Written for dragonkink meme. Vegeta finds his daughter's secret tentacle porn stash. Awkwardness and fears of all that squirms abound. Bra is incredibly nonchalant about the whole deal. A thesis on how odd the Briefs family is.


The Prompt:

**Vegeta finds his daughter's secret tentacle porn stash. Awkwardness and fears of all that squirms abound. Added points if Bra is incredibly nonchalant about the whole deal.**

The Fill:

* * *

><p>In retrospect, confronting the entire family during breakfast was perhaps not the best idea in the world. And yet, yet how could he wait with the knowledge he now possessed? How could he sit on the horrible, try and live with it for any second longer? He raced into the dining room, where no one spared him a second glance.<p>

Vegeta slammed down the videos, magazines, pictures, pinups featuring those...things onto the table.

The irritated look he got from his wife only set him off further. She hadn't even put down the screwdriver and piece of machinery in her hands. "DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS?"

"Uuuuh. Dad? Why do you have this stuff?"

"Don't you look at me that way! I found it downstairs, in a box. Just sitting there." His eye twitched sporadically. "That might be the most upsetting part: it wasn't even hidden properly."

"Um. Okay." Trunks moved his spoon from one side of the cereal bowl to the other. "Why do you have it? Why are you showing it to us?"

"That's what I'd like to know!"

"...what?"

"Whose is this!" But he stared down his son, his supposed heir, in his baggy shorts and scarf. Like he already knew and had accused and punished the owner, and it was the boy in front of him. His sneer of disgust made Trunks waves his hands in defense.

"Hey. Don't look at me. That's not mine! Mine isn't—nevermind. Nevermind."

"Then _whose is it_?"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Why do you even care?"

"Is it _yours_! Is it! Is that why you, and that thing-"

"Vegeta," she said, warningly. "Kids."

"Fine. Is it yours?"

"Of course not! It's probably Master Roshi's. Or my Dad's. Yeah, it's probably Daddy's."

Trunks refilled his bowl, having decided the situation was over with.

"I'll destroy that disgusting human!"

"Now, now. He probably just bought it a long time ago. That's why it was downstairs and in some box. For Dad, that's discreet. He probably meant to throw it out, and just forgot."

The Saiyan nodded and made a move to collect the horribleness. "I'll go burn it then."

"Wait." A small, pale hand that unlike all the others seated at the table, bore no callouses or scars but instead blood-red nail polish reached out and slapped the table. The other hand held a green apple, and she took a small bite from it as her family glanced at her.

"It's mine."

Everyone stared. "What?"

There was a shrug of small shoulders. His daughter. The little girl who would run to the door when he stumbled in from a grueling training session, whose diapers he'd changed, who used to follow him around, clinging to his hand and chattering. "It's my stuff."

"_What?_"

"What are you talking about? Is this some...school thing?"

"Nope. Of course not."

Trunks looked ready to vomit, and then run away to throw up some more. "Why do you have that stuff?"

"Oh, I don't know. I thought it was interesting."

Her mother was sucking in breathe, hollowing her cheeks. "Interesting. Fine. But couldn't you be more discreet? Even Trunks hides his-"

"Mom!"

"Well. Get a better place and a lock. That's all I ask. From you both. To never see this sort of thing. Pick up a drug addiction, go out and get alcohol poisoning, meet strange men and take strange pills, and feel free to tell me about your experiences. But just hide the porn. Please.

"It's the same rules my parents had for me growing up, and I expect the same for the two of you."

Bra shrugged again. "I didn't mean for anyone to find it. No one goes down there. Sorry Daddy."

The other two bright heads turned back to their bowls/electronics. "Let's just never talk about it."

"Agreed."

"...What the hell is this! Why do you have this! Why would you have this! Did someone give you this, was it the machine's child, or the brat's brat?"

"Who? Marron? Pan? Oh, no, neither of them are into that stuff. In fact, I think they both think it's weird. Eh. What can you do?" The half-Saiyan took another bite from her apple.

"But why do you have this? Why would you want this? Why would you read this, have so much of this? Why? WHY?"

"Bra, just try and answer him. Your father's going to have another heart-palpitation if you don't."

"Jeez, Daddy. Okay. I think it's_ interesting_."

"It's...tentacles! _Wormlik_e things crawling into _orifices_!"

"I know."

"So why are you looking at this disgusting, horrifying...things?"

She rolled her eyes at her mother. "Dunno. Why does anyone look at that stuff?"

Her father was holding his stomach, his old ulcer working up. "What happened to you? Was it Kakarrotte's brat? Did he do this?"

"Goten? Goten couldn't even find _one_ of those orifices with a half-dozen tentacles and his dorky brother helping him."

"...what?"

"And I don't know why you're so angry. You should see Trunk's 'things.'"

"Moooommm!"

"Stop messing with your brother. He's been under a lot of stress lately." She gave her eldest an indulgent expression.

"What, living at home for another year? Having to pick out a new _scarf_?"

"You shut up! Wait until you have a job and have to work with Mom all day. Then you'll see."

"You're so weird. And yet you don't even realize it."

"Why were you looking at these, Bra! How could you enjoy this!" Vegeta flipped through a magazine. "Ugh. Ugh. Why? WHY? Ugh. The squirming.

"As though I hadn't seen enough disturbing aliens. Some of whom looked just like this. You, you haven't seen the horror of this sort of thing. Shared a ship with these disgusting dripping creatures. Seen these tentacles prepare food for you before strangling a man. Always, always the squirming."

"I wonder if the Son family ever gets together and have mornings like these?" Bulma asked her coffee mug.

"You're not the daughter I raised! What happened to the little girl who enjoyed burning ants and helping me fit into those tiny chairs for her tea party?"

"I'm sure Krillin and Juuhachigou don't. Marron's way too sane and well-adjusted for that. But the Sons?...Maybe. _Probably_."

Trunks looked up, hopeful. "Does this mean she's grounded?"

"Yes. And I'm _burning these_!" He scooped the periodicals and movies from the table, a manic look to his eyes that told them all knew from experience to let the issue go. Slowly, not showing his back to his family, he crept from the room.

Bra bit her tongue, knowing how easy it was to get replacements. Her father, pirate bandit murderer or not, was so _sheltered_. Like you couldn't go to any magazine stand or dirty movie place and find dozens of other magazines catering to her interest. The huge selection available online as well, if you didn't want a physical copy. Hell, she had nearly a tetra-bite of the stuff on her computer's hard drive. In all different varieties and tastes and colors and positions and backgrounds, depending on her mood.

And that was just straight tentacle/person stuff. There was also stuff involving threads and ropes and monsters with stretchy parts.

"Now that he's gone, can we talk about Trunks' issues? And the weird stuff I found in his computer? And under his bed?"

"I'd prefer not to, honey."

"There's nothing wrong with experimentation in someone's youth. The doctor said I was perfectly fine and have nothing to be ashamed of."

"That shrink was just a quack. And you're almost in your damn thirties."

"Don't talk about that either. Makes me feel old."

"Sorry, Mom."

"Aw, Mom, you don't look a day over twenty."

"Thanks, honey. Do you need some gas money?"

"He lives at work! All he needs is to walk _upstairs!_ Not to mention, he can fly."

"Isn't it time you got ready for _school_?"

"Where's my gas money! Or do I not kiss your ass enough for that!"

"Finish your apple and go to school, Bra."

"Mom. He'd gotten a hold of a camera and was making _movies_. In _imitation_. Mom. There were _stories._"

"I don't want to hear that! Or see it Trunks, so you better make sure you don't give a copy to anyone or upload it anywhere. Do you two hear me?"

"Fine, Mom.

"Sure. But am I really grounded?"

They didn't notice the bloom of smoke rising past one window, as Vegeta solemnly burned his daughter's collection of tentacle related porn and tried to bury a whole new subject in a place already filled heavily with memories that needed to be forgotten. Yet, how could he not repress this? He dug another mental hole, trying not to wince at the unearthed memories of Nappa, and desperately shoved his children's porn preferences deep inside.

_Let them lie still_, he prayed. _Let them never be awoken again._

He watched the oily smoke rise, and hoped for something better for his children.

* * *

><p>Somewhere, in another timeline and universe, another Trunks was shuddering and had no idea why. He looked out the recently re-glazed window onto the broken gray landscape and reminded himself there was still so much work to be done. So much more to rebuild for them to come back and be healed.<p>

But that was for later.

He was a very stressed young man, and deserved a few moments of peace.

The purple-haired man turned back to the guests he'd hired for the evening and the expensive camera with its lenses and meters and zooms and cardioid mike and sync-pulse cords his dear mother had given him for his last birthday. She'd been so pleased with his interest in photography and film, and had gone out of the way to find the best equipment. How happy she'd been to see his gleeful face as he tore the wrapping away. "Mom! This is so awesome!"

And then, later, "Can I rewatch some of those old videos you and Krillin made of the gang? And look at the pictures?" Bulma had immediately gone to go get them, letting Trunks watch them in his darkened bedroom, and how she totally respected his privacy enough never to go digging under his bed to find the notes he'd taken.

Carefully, he rearranged the tripod and it's barney.

"Okay. Now, let's try this again. Do you mind, Goku, remussing your hair?"

"Wait, whose Goku again? Is that me?"

Trunks sighed. "Yes, Mike, that's you."

"Okay, cool, now do I fool around with the other dude here? The bald one? Or the scarred one?"

"The scarred one first. Then you, Jason, come in and act all shocked. But reluctantly interested."

The smaller man with the shaved head gave a thumbs up. "Got it."

"And then the teenage twins, Diane and Ron, uuh, 'Achi' and 'Nana,' they join in?"

"Right. And you two are angry. Super pissed off. You're here to _kill _Goku! And only find him having sex with two guys you were both sorta interested in but were planning on jumping much later. Only now you don't want to kill Goku, or any of them. You'd prefer to just jump in. Got it?"

"Sure."

"Sure."

"Everyone remember their lines? I have cue cards, if needed.

"Okay, now.

"_A__ction_."


End file.
